The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [13]
‘Master Matosh.’ Jarrod had retrieved his staff. ‘I assure you we are only…’
‘I don’t need your assurances, boy. I need my daughter to stop this nonsense and grow up. What if another council member saw her dressed—’ he’d stared at her breasts ‘—undressed, in this manner? I can’t imagine what you’ve been up to.’
‘We were only…’
‘I don’t want to know,’ he’d shouted louder, his face turning red. ‘I want you off my land!’ John’ra’s fists knotted, threatening him. ‘And stay away from my daughter, or I’ll run you out of town.’
Jarrod’s jaw had tightened, his arm twitching. After a few moments, he’d given a curt nod to John’ra and kissed his sparring partner’s cheek. He’d slung his staff over his shoulder and swaggered away.
Soon after, a string of wealthy merchants had begun calling, marriage on their minds. Kalindi and John’ra had argued about it until their battles turned into a seething undercurrent in the household. He’d called her headstrong and self-centred; she’d called him stubborn and insensitive. After some time, they didn’t call each other anything at all.
Now that she knew about the bad debts, his behaviour made more sense. Lining her up with suitors, all of them established, middle-aged men, was his way out. She flared up at the thought. It insulted her—John’ra and his officious presumptions, and her mother had gone along with it all!
‘Sweetheart, Mr Arbrant is here to see you,’ she had said.
‘I don’t want to see him.’
‘Why? He’s a fine man.’
‘I’m sixteen, mamá. He’s forty-two. Do the sums.’
‘I have.’
‘Don’t you think he’s a tad my senior?’
‘I don’t, and hurry up. He’s not accustomed to waiting.’
‘He sounds a right prize.’
‘Kalindi!’
‘Mamá, listen to me. I don’t care if he owns all the land from here to Corsanon. I won’t waste my time on that pig of a man. You can tell him I said so.’
‘With the way your voice carries, I doubt I’ll have to.’
‘Please, Mamá. Just tell him to go. I’m not seeing anyone today.’
‘Anyone but Jarrod?’
‘At least he’s my age.’
‘He is that, Kalindi, but a foundling is no match for you.’
‘I’m not looking for that kind of match, mamá, and Jarrod’s an equal in every other way.’
Bethsay had sighed and turned away. Her father had cursed. He said she had too much of her mother’s blood, and he’d made it sound like a foul thing. She had bristled then, but now she understood it differently.
Why couldn’t you have been honest with me, John’ra? I would have been more mindful of danger.
It would have been better, perhaps, if she’d left of her own accord. She could have organised the journey and at least said goodbye. She could have taken Assalo. Her throat tightened. That wouldn’t have stopped the murders, though. She wiped her eyes, poking the stick deeper into the bed of glowing embers.
The surf pounded the reef and rows of white lines flashed as the waves broke, racing to the shore. Banking the fire, she dug a burrow, wrapped her coat tightly around her body and cocooned herself in the thick quilt. With the rhythm of the sea behind her, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 2
The yap and bark of dogs cut through the evening stillness as Jarrod slowed to a walk. They bounded up to him, two setters and a small terrier, their enthusiasm infectious. He roughed their necks and slapped their sides, pulling the ball from the terrier’s mouth and tossing it back towards the house. They all bolted after it, the little wiry one scooping it up as he skidded to a halt. They turned back towards Jarrod, but he waved them on to the barn. As they darted off, his smile faded. The moment’s reprieve from his thoughts of Rosette made them flood back tenfold. She’d been everything to him. Now she was gone. How was he going to live with that? More importantly, how was he going to lie about it?
‘I wasn’t programmed to lie.’ He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t programmed to fall in love either.’
His heart was still pounding when he reached the barn, his hand cramped from gripping his bow. He’d run most of the way from South Sea Cove, longing to drive the growing pain from his chest. It